


The Visiting Prince

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eowyn & Faramir Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Post-War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: When Faramir arrives to see Eowyn to find her brother missing, his visit takes an unexpected turn.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	The Visiting Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DachOsmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/gifts).



Faramir reined up in front of the gates of Edoras, marveling at the sight before him. It was exactly as Éowyn had described it. It was not as grand as Minas Tirith, but he loved it in its own way. The houses clinging to the rising hill settled a homely feeling in his breast, and he thought he would very much enjoy his visit.

He did wonder at the fact there was no one there to greet him. Éowyn had invited him, and they'd exchanged several letters planning the visit. Had she forgotten? He didn't think that was likely, not for Éowyn. 

Had something happened? 

He was turning to speak with one of his men when the gates opened, and a man came out, followed by guards. It didn't escape Faramir's notice that, save the leader, they were all old graybeards, though they wore their armor well. 

"Forgive me, my lord. My name is Éothain. Lady Éowyn and the king are… away."

"Away?" Faramir tensed. Something was wrong. "They were expecting me." 

"I know." Éothain looked genuinely apologetic, and Faramir relaxed slightly. There was no coup afoot here. "The king has been taken." His face was tight. "By orcs. Lady Éowyn has led a party out to search for him. I would be with her, but I was told to wait for you."

"Then your task is complete." Faramir mounted up again, the length of the journey seeming to melt away. He had been looking forward to the hospitality of Meduseld, a good drink with Éowyn, and perhaps a good look at the brother about whom she had been dropping hints heavy as a charger. "Now we will go out together."

They rode until near nightfall, Éothain seeming to know where Éowyn would have made her camp.

"I ought to have known you would come," she said when she saw Faramir. He had never seen her like this—he had heard many tales of her prowess in battle and as a leader of men, and he had faced her with practice swords, but he had never seen her in real action. _And of course, the king is her brother._ There was a determined set to her face, a grimness he had never seen before. 

"I could not have stayed away, a guest in your house with you away." 

She gave him a grateful smile. "I'm glad you're here. We could use your help." Her description of what had happened was brief and blunt, but he could tell she was under a great deal of stress. Éomer had been leading a patrol to chase down the remains of a band of orcs when he had been captured. Part of her still seemed unable to believe that her beloved older brother was in danger. 

"We will find him," Faramir assured her, sensing he would have to lend her some strength. 

"Of course we will," she said brusquely. "And you will be glad to meet him again." 

Faramir's face burned. He and Éomer had exchanged only a few words at Minas Tirith, but he could not deny there had been… something. Faramir was not confident enough that it was not entirely on his own side, but Éowyn seemed to believe there was something there… He shook his head. He supposed she wouldn't be doing this if she didn't believe there was a chance of mutual attraction. 

But he could not let that cloud his thoughts. He would help where he was most needed.

**

They set out at dawn, and Faramir found it easy to fall back into the rhythms of riding and tracking as he had so many times during the war. He had not envisioned having to do this again, but for Éomer, he would. Éowyn had seen so much loss, he would not let anything happen to her brother if he could help it. She was like a sister to him and he spared no thought to how she could be his sister for real. 

They split into smaller parties, and it was mid-afternoon before Faramir and his men stumbled upon the band of orcs. They had tracked them to a small rise in the plains, but the orcs fell upon them before they had time to properly react. The next thing he knew, they were engulfed in the fight, and he thought of nothing but slaying orcs. 

Then, when the heat of battle was gone, he remembered why they had come. 

One of the Rohirrim who had accompanied him was crouching over a body. Faramir's heart sank. 

"It is he king, and he lives," the man declared. 

"Then we must hurry." Faramir helped the soldier lift Éomer over the back of Faramir's horse before swinging himself into the saddle again. 

He allowed himself one look down at the king's face, only barely stirring. _He is fair, I will grant it_ , he thought, before dismissing such thoughts from his head in favor of the task at hand. 

They were back at Meduseld just before sunset. Éowyn's party had not returned, and Faramir dispatched riders to call them back. He did not remark on how easily he fell into making himself at home within Éomer's house—with Éowyn away and the king indisposed, all the men and women of the household were quite willing to listen to him. 

He saw Éomer settled in bed and his injuries examined. They were not extensive, the healer informed him, though he had taken a blow to the head and must be watched closely. Faramir did not hesitate before volunteering for this task himself. 

It was the wee hours of the morning when Éowyn returned, making such a clatter in her armor that Faramir nearly shushed her lest she disturb the patient.

He lost this impulse when he saw the true worry on her face, however. 

"He is well," he assured her. "He needs his rest, but the healer seems to think he will be recovered quickly."

Éowyn sagged in relief. "Thank you. I did not mean to welcome you on your visit like this, but it is fortunate you arrived when you did."

"I could not have done anything else." 

"Of course not." Éowyn smiled. "Will you rest now? Your room is ready; I had it made up before Éomer went missing."

"I think I will stay here a while," Faramir said. "I have had too much excitement this night to sleep." 

Éowyn favored him with a knowing smile and departed. Faramir turned his attention back to Éomer. He was indeed fair, Faramir decided, the perfect image of a king of the Rohirrim. Faramir remembered being fascinated by tales of the riders of the Mark as a child, and Éomer could have been a hero from a tale, with his long braids loosed about his face, his strong jaw and broad shoulders. 

Faramir didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he was roused from his doze by a stirring on the bed. 

He sat up instantly. 

"What sort of house does my sister run that her guests are made to sit with the injured?"

Faramir smiled; at least there was nothing wrong with the king's good humor. "This is nothing to do with your sister's hospitality. That has been impeccable. I wanted to sit with you."

"Did you?" Éomer's eyes were open and in the dim light from the hearth and the growing brightness outside, Faramir could see they were alight with amusement. 

Faramir flushed. "It seemed only right, as I was the one who came to your rescue." 

"Then I should thank you." 

"There is no need." Faramir was glad for the low lighting, as he feared his cheeks were red. "It was the right thing to do, and your sister is dear friend." 

"This was not how I would have received you had I any choice in the matter." Éomer paused. "I hope you will forgive me for not sitting up. My head aches as though I were kicked in the head."

"You need your rest," Faramir said, standing hastily. "I will tell the healer you're awake."

"If you insist." Éomer's eyes fluttered shut once more. "I only hope there will be time during the rest of your visit when I will be able to entertain you properly."

**

Those words danced in Faramir's head as he went to his room to lie down. He was completely aware of the scheme Éowyn had been planning, and it seemed Éomer was, too—perhaps even welcomed it. The anticipation of what that might mean—not to mention his exhaustion from the ride, the battle, and his vigil—let him sleep contentedly.

It was past noon when he woke and Éowyn was with her brother when Faramir sought them out. 

"Good," Éomer said. "Faramir is here and is surely sensible enough to convince my dear baby sister that I am capable of getting out of bed on my own."

"Capable, yes—too capable. The sooner you are up, the sooner you will insist on riding and—"

"But what if I should have Faramir as a minder?" Éomer's eyes were twinkling. 

This was deemed suitable by both Éowyn and the healer, and they were soon walking outside in the courtyard together.

"My sister is not subtle," was Éomer's first observation. 

"I have become accustomed to it."

Éomer laughed. "Then I am sure you've realized her purpose in inviting you here."

"I have." 

"If I didn't know better, I might have thought she orchestrated my capture so you could come dramatically to my rescue."

"Were that the case, you might have been conscious when I did it so you could have admired my moment of glory."

Éomer threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that Faramir felt deep in his chest. "I should have liked that," he added, after he sobered. 

"It was the right thing to do," Faramir insisted. 

"And I thank you for it." Éomer smiled at him again, and Faramir cursed the way his heart was beating.

**

The next few days were much like this. Éomer was frequently insistent that Faramir find something other than an "invalid" with which to amuse himself, and Faramir was just as insistent that he was perfectly well amused where he was. 

Their walks were a daily feature and grew longer every day as Éomer regained his strength. It was not lost on Faramir that Éomer seemed to spend particular attention on showing him parts of Meduseld, and once they ventured out, the rest of the city, that were of particular interest to himself as king… and might also be of interest to a consort. 

It also did not escape his notice that as they returned to Meduseld that Éomer took his arm, though he had been walking with vigor just moments before. 

At the end of the week, Éowyn informed him there would be a feast to celebrate Éomer's recovery. Faramir supposed this was to be a replacement for his welcome feast which had understandably not occurred. 

"You are feeling better, then?" Faramir asked, as they took their daily stroll. 

It was funny how the more time seemed to pass, the more Éomer seemed to need Faramir's arm.

"Exceedingly. If there is to be dancing, I aim to take part." Faramir refrained from pointing out that Éomer was the king and if he wanted to dance, there would be dancing. It did not seem to be why he had said it.

"I should like that as well." 

Éomer smiled and squeezed Faramir's arm. He did not let go of it until they had passed through the gates of Meduseld. 

**

It was a warm night and the great front doors had been thrown open to bring warm summer air into the hall. Faramir had already quaffed more than one tankard of ale to wash down the ample meal, and he was feeling relaxed. Éomer was laughing with his people and Faramir was quite drawn to the way his hair, bound in one braid, glimmered in the firelight.

"I see you've been getting closer." Éowyn's smile was satisfied; it had not escaped her notice where Faramir's gaze was directed. 

"Indeed we have." Faramir was reluctant to look away Éomer. He did not care if she noticed. And he only had to wait a few moments before Éomer excused himself from the people he was talking to and made his way over to Faramir.

"I do believe the dancing is about to begin. I want to be able to show these good people that I am fully recovered." Éomer grinned. "Will you help me in that? I wish for my people to see you. It is my hope they will be seeing much more of you in the days to come." 

Faramir smiled, hope for the future bubbling with him. "Of course." 

He followed Éomer into the center of the hall, feeling as though he were walking on air. The eyes of all the Rohirrim seemed to be on him; if things went the way he was beginning to suspect they might, he _wouldn_ be their king's consort, and he would have to win their trust. 

It occurred to Faramir suddenly that he might not know the steps he would be expected to perform, but Éomer guided him effortlessly. He almost forgot he was in front of a hundred people, dancing with their king. 

After they had danced two dances alone, other couples began to join them. 

"I hope I did well." 

"I am certain you did." Éomer was smiling at him and Faramir leaned into his touch, his hand casually resting on his shoulder, so near his neck. "After this dance… I should like to take a break. I still tire easily, you know." 

"Naturally." 

The night was cool enough not to be uncomfortable but to be a relief from the press of bodies in the hall. 

"I have come to greatly enjoy your company, Faramir." 

"As I have yours."

Éomer looked down at his hands. "And it would please me greatly if you would remain with me for some time more. I should like to continue getting to know you better with an eye toward… making a match of it. If that is agreeable to you." 

"It is very agreeable." 

And then he kissed him. He found he'd wanted to do this for a while now and he was not inclined to wait, not when Éomer was so obviously a willing participant. He tasted of spice and ale and a hint of woodsmoke. 

He looked into his eyes for a time after they parted; it did not seem that there was a party continuing within the walls just behind them. When Éomer kissed him again, it felt as though they were alone in the world. 

He could imagine feeling very much at home here.


End file.
